Never Regret Anything
by dhbPATHWAY1997
Summary: Italy is feeling guilty for leaving Germany and Japan and believes that it's his fault the Axis lost the war. Germany reassures Italy, and tells him to never regret anything. Italy takes that advice to heart when he gets bold. T for yaoi/sexual themes.


**A/N: (PLEASE READ!) **_**Mein Gott.**_** I have been writing SO much smut lately... What is wrong with my brain! Sorry to some of you... You're welcome to others. ;D I know it's not like INTENSE smut, but I am but a delicate flower ( XD LMAO) and I don't write that kind of stuff. Now. :P What I **_**really**_** wanted to say is, **_**please**_** take notice of the numerous **_**und**_**s and **_**mein**_**s. You have no idea how long it took me to write this having to incorporate those, but I wanted it to sound like how Germany talks in the anime. Meaning... **

**und = and; mein = mine; was = what; Gott = God; ja = yes; nein = no; Ich liebe dich = I love you. That's all! :) Enjoy!**

When World War II was over, _und_ everything was said _und_ done, I didn't know what to think. I had a ginormous debt to pay off, as did a few other countries, _und_ one of _mein_ craziest bosses was finally gone. Some countries who were sympathetic with the Allies would cast me a wary gaze when I walked by, blaming me entirely for something I didn't want to be part of in the first place_. Mein_ friendships with a few other countries were slowly mending. I didn't blame Italy for anything; I had done what I had to do, _und_ he'd done what he had to do. I was not bitter in the least, just…accepting. I was accepting my fate _und_ the direction _mein_ existence would be going. I felt…at peace.

"Germany, Germany!"

Except for that.

"_Ja_? What is it, Italy?" I asked wearily, turning in _mein_ desk chair to face him.

"I was just wondering if you'd let me cook you dinner tonight," Italy chirped cheerfully, grinning. "You've just been working _so_ hard, and I figured I could do something to help!"

"You do know this will be the third time this week."

"Is that a yes?"

I sighed. "_Ja_. Fine, Italy. Let me just pack these away."

Be warned: fighting a war could be a _pain_ to pay for later. _Und_ as if I hadn't learned that lesson in World War I, then I was getting a review now. I'd been taking a long look at my financial situation, _und_… Well, it wasn't looking good.

I twirled _mein_ pasta around the fork, successfully capturing a bite-sized portion. I lifted it to my mouth _und_ then put it down, seeing the look on Italy's face. He looked anxious, or guilty, maybe, _und_ while one hand holding an eating utensil prodded the pasta frequently, the carbohydrate enthusiast was making no real attempt to eat his pasta.

"Italy?" I asked tentatively, setting my fork down.

"Hmm?" he murmured, starting and sitting up a little straighter, fork held a little tighter.

I raised an eyebrow. "Are…you okay? You're acting strange…you're not eating…"

"Oh…oh!" Then Italy stuffed seemingly as much pasta as could possibly coil around the fork into his mouth with fervor as I watched curiously. Soon, half the plate was gone, but the smile that had temporarily lived on Italy's face was also gone, taken back over by the guilty, downcast look.

"You didn't have to stuff the whole thing in your mouth," I muttered. "That wasn't really what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Italy asked, smiling again, but it wasn't a genuine smile, one that lit up his face _und_ showed you his heart _und_ brought an embarrassing blush to _mein_ pale face. It was a fake smile, _und_ one that I didn't appreciate.

"I mean, you're acting weird. You're not happy." Italy neither confirmed nor denied this, so I asked, "What's wrong?" He didn't look up. For the first time I noticed that even the long, strange curl in his hair was drooping, like it was following his emotional lead. "Italy?"

Then Italy did look up and I was instantly concerned. There were tears in Italy's large, warm brown eyes _und_ the look in them tugged at _mein_ heart. He looked miserable, like he could fall off of the Leaning Tower of Pisa _und_ smile on the way down. I was tough, but that look on his face was startling, _und_ maybe even scary. "_Mein Gott ._Italy, what's wrong?"

I got up out of _mein_ chair _und_ took Italy by the hand, leading him to the sofa in the living room. Tears fell freely from his eyes as he followed me, _und_ when we sat down, I wrapped _mein _arms around him in a way that I hoped came off as friendly _und_ reassuring. "Italy, you can tell me anything. Please tell me what's wrong so I can make it better."

With a quivering voice, Italy answered, "It's m-my fault y-you l-l-lost the w-war."

"_Was_?"

"It's my fault!" Italy said a little louder. "All m-mine. I was n-never any use to you or J-Japan and I just – Oh, you w-w-would have been b-better off without me f-from the b-beginning, but I _had_ to be a p-p-part of it! I _had_ to be y-your ally! And you lost the w-war because of _me_!" Italy sobbed.

"Ah…Italy," I tried to sound reasonable, but really, I had little idea how to deal with his hysterics. He'd never been this bad off. "It's not your fault. We were fighting a losing battle from the beginning, _und_ anyone who says otherwise is as crazy as _mein_ old boss." Italy just sniffed. "Uh, besides. I don't blame you for anything. The Allies were just stronger, and more resourceful. It's not your fault."

Italy sniffed again. "You r-really don't b-blame m-me, Germany?"

"_Nein_. You don't have anything to feel guilty about."

"Then why h-have you been a-avoiding m-m-me?" he asked pitifully as more tears fell from his chocolatey eyes.

"_Was_? I haven't been avoiding you! Italy, I've been _busy_," I tried to explain, wiping the tears from his face unthinkingly and then blushing upon the realization of my actions. "War has consequences, you know. Economically, politically, environmentally... This mess is going to take a really long time to clean up."

"So...s-so you're n-not mad? You don't h-hate me?"

"_Nein_, Italy. I could never hate you, I - um, well, you're _mein_ ally _und_ _mein_ friend." I blushed a little brighter, suddenly wanting to subletly move away from him. "So, never regret anything, Italy."

"Never...r-regret anything?" he repeated as a question. He was looking right into _mein_ eyes, his own face full-to-bursting with emotion.

Unable to tear my gaze away, and extremely conscious of _mein_ one arm still around him, I replied, affirming, "Never."

I knew I _could_ stop him, but I didn't really want to as Italy slowly brought his face close to _mein_, tears still shining on his cheeks. Did I want this? Um... I blushed at the thought. Actually, _ja_, I did. I thought of Italy's smile, _und_ his adorable foolishness, _und_ the delicious food he made - he didn't even screw up _mein_ wurst too badly - his cowardice that made it necessary for me to protect him...his naïvete that sometimes got him in trouble...his imagination (I swear, he can turn _anything_ into a white flag)...

_Und_ I found _mein_ hand on his cheek, helping to bring him closer _und_ he smiled gently, but not with his mouth, with his eyes. The arm that wrapped around him tightened, holding him closer, _und_ came around with _mein_ hand on his waist. I finally understood what people meant when they said they could get lost in someone's eyes. But then I couldn't see his eyes, because _mein_ had closed on their own, our faces about two inches apart. There was no noise in the room but one small, breathy exhalation from Italy, _und_ then...we kissed.

It wasn't weird at all, which was a little weird in itself. Wouldn't two people who'd previously been friends _und_ allies find it awkward to be like this? But it didn't feel strange, it felt...well, it felt...good. It was like something in _mein_ brain clicked, _und_ things made sense.

I suddenly regretted all the wasted time hididng what I knew had been physical, romantic attraction. I regretted how I would always shut down and hide in myself whenever emotions began to show themselves. I shouldn't have avoided him, because I had, before. I should have just accepted it like I'd accepted my defeat and the consequences of the war. The fact was, really, that Italy was really too hard for me to resist.

I felt warm all over, like a window had been opened, letting warm, summer morning air douse us. All I cared about was Italy, _und_ even if I knew that we were on the couch in _mein_ home, it didn't seem as pedestrian as that. Everything felt like a dream, the best kind of dream...

I knew it wasn't a dream, however, as I realized a quick, sharp pain on _mein_ lip when Italy bit down gently, _und_ I opened _mein_ lips, trying not to smile, giving him what he wanted, but manipulating the situation to get what _I_ wanted. I pushed him back as much as I could into the couch and leaned towards him, pressing myself closer. One of Italy's small hands touched my chest over _mein_ heart _und_ I released his face with _mein_ left hand so I could use it to hold his hand in place, never wanting him to let go. He didn't seem to want to, either.

It got so that I almost didn't know whose tongue was whose, or which lip wet where. All there was in _mein_ mind was Italy. Though he was obviously there physically - ahem - it was more of an emotional thing. It was like I could feel Italy with something more than just _mein_ hands.

_Mein Gott_, I probably would have seemed sappy to anyone else, thinking like that. BUt it was the unabridged version of everything I felt in just a few moments.

Italy's hand that wasn't resting on my heart was still trying to support him, keeping himself propped up as much as he could be, pinned as he was between the back of the couch and me. He removed it, letting himself fall back, and I fell on top of him.

Before I realized what I was doing, Italy's shirt was gone, and he was helping me. Part of me wanted to halt this, _und_ see where we could go from where we'd gotten. But another part of me wanted to go a little longer, _und_ feel the soft skin normally hidden by his clothes. I realized, a little self-consicously, that under meinclothes, Italy would find deep scars from centuries of war, but I was too far gone. Soon, _mein_ shirt was thrown off somewhere, _und_ Italy's soft, delicate hands were caressing me, tracing _und_ stroking the scars I'd worried over. In fact, a little moan escaped Italy's lips into _mein_ own mouth as his fingers continued to follow the slightly raised areas of once-mauled skin.

Italy didn't try to reach for _mein_ pants, which I was glad for. I was quite happy with what we were doing now, _und_ I didn't feel the need to take this any further until we had a chance to see where we would go. I loved Italy, I did, but I didn't want to force myself upon him util we were both ready and sure.

Still, _mein_ mouth unlatched from Italy's _und_ traveled down his face, to his neck, where I continued to kiss, reveling in his taste _und_ the feeling of his blood pulsing through his veins on _mein _lips. Somehow, his hands had traveled from _mein _chest to _mein_ hair without _mein_ notice, _und_ he tugged gently as more little moans came from his throat. He pushed himself closer to me, but I pushed him back against the couch furthur again, _und_ _mein _teeth lightly impressed themselves into Italy's neck, causing another moan.

Italy suddenly took mein face _und_ lifted it back up to his, taking _mein_ lips with his once more, _und_ I pushed _mein_ tongue back into his mouth.

I was surprised, though, when Italy pushed back against me forcefully so I was flat on _mein_ back on the couch, his body on top of _mein_ now. I might've gone against this, but as we probably weren't about to take it any furthur, I consented.

I ran my hands over Italy's torso and sides, almost massaging his ribcage, _und_ Italy put his hands back on _mein_ chest as well, feeling _mein_ muscles _und_ scars again, _und _pressing into _mein_ body with relish.

Eventually, Italy's mouth became a little less insistent on _mein_, his hands a little less fervent _und_ hungry. _Mein_ hands, also, became a little more soothing and sensual than passionate. Slowly, Italy slid down, resting his head on _mein_ chest _und_ kissing one long, pale scar there, panting slightly. _Mein_ breathing was fast, too, as was _mein_ heartbeat, _und_ I had a feeling that Italy was listening to it as he stilled.

Soon, Italy murmured, "_Grazie_, Germany."

I was mildly confused. "For what?" I replied.

"For showing me that you love me back. You do, don't you?" he almost pleaded.

"_Ja_," I told him genuinely. "Ich - Ich liebe dich, Italy."

"Good," he whispered back, sounding sleepy. "_Ti amo_, Germany. And," he smiled blearily, "I'll never regret it."


End file.
